Conglomeration
by Lady Yueh
Summary: Accumulation of random, drabbleficlet crossovers.
1. The End of Days

**Title:** The End of Days  
**Author:** Lady Yueh  
**Fandoms:** Torchwood, Angel: The Series  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Disclaimer:** Not my property and no infringement is intended.  
**Character(s):** Owen Harper. Lilah Morgan  
**Author's Notes:** For **magicamethyst80**'s prompt which posed the question as to what would occur should Owen and Lilah meet. It was a challenge because I rather loathe both the characters.  
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Owen guzzles beer, racing to inevitable oblivion as quickly as he can swallow.

"Give me another," he demands of the bartender.

_Who the fucking hell does Jack think he is? Fire __**me**__? He'd still be fucking stuck in the forties if it weren't for me!_

"Buy you a drink?"

On any other night he'd take the stacked (and American) brunette on her transparent offer and shag her brains out. (Hell, he probably will anyway. After a few more beers.)

"Listen, sweetheart. I'm not in the mood but if you're that desperate come back in a couple bottles and I won't remember my arse of an ex-boss then, yeah?"

She arches a perfectly tweezed eyebrow. Probably one of those snobby rich bitches looking to step out on their husband for a night.

"Looks like he really screwed you over."

He grunts. "Bastard's wrong. He's putting everyone in danger and hasn't got a clue how to fix the problem. I put up a perfectly reasonable solution and the arsehole fires me!"

"Sounds like you should do something about that. I mean, if he's obviously endangering lives and ignoring advice--"

Owen's alcohol-hazed mind considers this suggestion and finds it to be a sound one.

"Yeah. S'not a bad idea. Thanks."

He stands and stumbles to the exit.

Lilah Morgan, smirking and victorious, pays his tab before leaving.


	2. One of Those Gorram Days

**Title:** One of Those Gorram Days  
**Author:** Lady Yueh  
**Fandoms:** Doctor Who, Firefly  
**Rating:** PG  
**Disclaimer:** Not my property and no infringement is intended.  
**Character(s):** Nine. Mal.  
**Author's Notes:** For **fardell24**'s prompt.  
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Mal Reynolds was _not_ in a pleasant mood.

First of all, he had a disquieting feeling that something nasty was going to happen on Beylix. There was a time when he could have paid mind to such a notion, turned tail, and gotten the _gorram_ hell away from whatever trouble was in his path.

Now, he had no choice. He'd either take whatever scrap of nothing he could hold onto or starve along with his crew.

And if his gut tellin' him he was set to be shot in the near future wasn't disturbin' enough, River was spoutin' nonsense again.

It all seemed to go straight to hell when she was in one of these moods.

Muttering about 'northern lords' and 'storms'. Least those were the least confusin' bits before she'd gotten riled up by all of the crew's questions and disappeared.

So, he made an escape to the cargo bay. Decided to get away from the crazy for a spell.

Things never seemed to go quite right around him.

_Gorram_ blue-box appearing on his ship like magic--or worse, Alliance tech--was the last straw.

The doors opened and a tall man with a face only a mother could love (ears the size of rice-balls!) dressed cleanly but not too finely stepped out.

He raised his hands once he caught sight of the gun aimed between his eyes.

"Listen, I've had a bad day and it's about to get worse. Don't quite feel like cleaning bits of your brain offa my deck so why don't you back inside your blue box 'fore it comes to that?"

The strange man shot him a sympathetic smile.

"Fair enough," he answered in an odd sort of accent as he stepped back into his machine.

"Day's getting better already," Mal grinned as the blue box disappeared from sight.


	3. Goblins and Tights

**Title:** Goblins and Tights  
**Author:** Lady Yueh  
**Fandoms:** Stargate SG-1, Labyrinth  
**Rating:** PG  
**Disclaimer:** Not my property and no infringement is intended.  
**Character(s):** Jack O'Neill, Sam Carter, Jareth  
**Author's Notes:** For **purplerhino**'s prompt. I have found that Jareth is rather difficult to write.  
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"Carter, is that guy wearing tights?"

"Actually, sir, they're leather pants."

"But those are ruffles right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Are those _house-elves_?"

"_Those_ are my goblins," the object of their scrutiny drawled.

O'Neill and Carter exchanged looks.

The man--for lack of a better word--was dressed rather flamboyantly, with feathered blonde hair, an unsettling pair of eyes that pointed towards heterochromia, and--was that eye shadow?

"_Goblins_?" Jack questioned skeptically.

"Yes," the man confirmed.

"And you are?" Jack inquired somewhat sarcastically.

"Jareth, King of the Goblins."

"Riiight," Jack nodded mockingly. "Carter? Just what was in those cookies you made?"

Jareth ignored Jack's remarks, "Cassandra has thirteen hours in which to reach the end of my Labyrinth."

"Cassandra? What do you want with Cassie?" Carter questioned with suspicious anger and definite threat.

"I? I want nothing of Cassandra. She wished for me to take you. I believe her words were, 'God, I wish the damned Goblin King would take you away!' So, I did. She seems to have changed her mind though. Therefore, she must defeat my Labyrinth within the allotted time to free you," Jareth answered with sneering contempt.

"Carter?"

"Sir?"

"You wouldn't happen to have your side arm with you would you?"

"No, Sir."

"Figures."

…

"Hey, Jareth! You got any beer around here? We were in the middle of dinner when you_apparated_ us away."

"I absolutely loathe that novel."

"Now,_that_, is evil."  
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	4. SNAFU

**Title:** SNAFU  
**Author:** Lady Yueh  
**Fandoms:** Stargate SG-1, Doctor Who  
**Rating:** G  
**Disclaimer:** Not my property and no infringement is intended.  
**Character(s):** Col. Jack O'Neill, Teal'c, Ten, Rose.  
**Author's Notes:** Meh. For **darkjediprinces**'s prompt.  
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The TARDIS was enveloped in a field that encouraged any viewers to ignore any _odd_ happenings and continue on their normal and average routines. It was why people could be feet away from the spot where the TARDIS materialized and not acknowledge that anything out of the ordinary had occurred.

For once, that particular feature was subverted. After all, when one's normal and average routine consisted of looking for the abnormal then perceptions became a bit muddled.

As soon as one of the security technicians caught sight of the intrusion she set off the alarm that sent special forces into action with one Col. Jack O'Neill leading the pack.

The sight of the blue container which read "Public Police Call Box" greeted them.

The doors swung inwards and the occupant emerged to be confronted with a rather daunting array of weaponry.

"Ah," the tall, bean-pole of a man breathed with surprise. "Hello!" he greeted cheerily.

"Are the British invading?" someone in the crowd muttered.

"Nope! No invasions. At least, I hope not. But you can never really know can you? Blimey! Col. O'Neill! How've you been?"

"Col. O'Neill, do you know this man?" Teal'c inquired.

"And Teal'c! You look good!"

"Doctor!" At that moment a blonde woman exited the blue box.

"Col. O'Neill?" She questioned with surprised recognition. "Doesn't much look like Laltisk, Doctor. For one, there are Americans," she needled the Doctor. "Americans with guns," she added.

"Rose?" Col. O'Neill looked confused as he recognized her. "What are you doing here? _How_ did you get here? And who's this guy?"

Rose shrugged. "Ask him," she motioned to her companion. "Says he's taking me to Laltisk and we end up here! He's The Doctor, by the way."

"Oi! Not my fault! We were pulled off course!"

Col. O'Neill could feel the start of a headache.

The klaxons started blaring.

It was going to be one of those days.

"OFF-WORLD ACTIVATION!"

Definitely.


End file.
